Dragon Age: The Last Call
by Sergeant K-BAR
Summary: The Champion of Kirkwall has disappeared, and the search for the Hero of Ferelden continues. But as winter falls upon Thedas, the worst fears of the Grey Wardens are confrimed. The Sixth Bligh has begun. Rated M for Violence, Language, and some Sexuality.


**Disclaimer: **I do not claim ownership of the Dragon Age series or anyof the respective characters created by Bioware within that series.

**A/N: **This is my first Dragon Age fanfic. I really love the story and setting, so I hope you all enjoy it. As you may notice, I have put a rather unique spin on the Origin stories.

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><p>For centuries, we have kept our vigil. We have watched and waited for the darkspawn to return. There are those who have doubted; who have forgotten. But it has always been our duty to remember: In peace, vigilance. In war, victory. In death, sacrifice. This is what it means to be a Grey Warden.<p>

_**The Anderfels, 9:47 Dragon Age**_

Winter always hit the Anderfels like a Blight, leaving the Wardens at Weisshaupt ill prepared to deal with the coming storm. Centruies of Blight refuse had left the lands a waste, barely capable of supporting its inhabitants. This winter, however, change was on the winds. A change that reeked of uncertainty and fear. The people of the Anderfels took head of this scent and braced themselves for whatever this winter may have in store.

The First Warden, head of the Order of Grey Wardens and also the de facto ruler of the Anderfels, could sense something far more ominous than the normal Blight's worth of darkspawn roaming the Anderfels. He could sense a Blight coming with the winter, and it was big enough to wake him in the darkest hours of the night with screams of pain.

The Wardens within Weisshaupt could feel the horde squirming in the Deep Roads, growing and massing in numbers that would strain even the thousand-strong army gathered at Weisshaupt Fortress. The Wardens gathered at Weisshaupt had always thought themselves prepared, ever ready to dispatch any threat the darkspawn could pose. Even now, they gathered their strength for the coming storm, the uncertain future that is rushing toiward them with each passing hour. With winter in the Anderfels would come change. With winter in the Anderfels, the Sixth Blight would begin.

"First Warden, can you-" a young Warden called as he entered the chambers of Weisshaupt's commander, the head of all Grey Wardens in the known world. The First Warden looked up at him, eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep.

"Yes, young one, I feel it too. Send word to Hossberg and Vigil's Keep. I fear a Blight is on the Horizon." he said, his voice grave and emotionless. The young Warden nodded and left for the messengers, seeming eager to get far away from the Anderfels. The First Warden looked into the horizon, as if staring into the future. He knew that, beyond a shadow of a doubt, a new Blight was in its infancy. Something that unsettled him, however, was the intensity of this coming Blight. Never before had he been awakened in the dead of night by the panicked screams of his Order. He knew there was something impossibley different about this Blight, but what that difference was escaped him.

**_Vigil's Keep, 9:47 Dragon Age_**

Aedan Cousland, one of only two surviving members of the Cousland family, stood watch over Vigil's Keep as well as his Arling. King Alistair had granted it to him partly out of reparations for what Rendon Howe has done to him, and because the keep needed a new guardian. Aedan stood as a messenger entered his chambers, exhausted but carrying a sense of urgency.

"I have word from Weisshaupt Fortress," he said, panting heavily. "The First Warden sends warning of the Sixth Blight. The Order is directed to prepare."

Aedan stood, partly shocked at what he was hearing. "The Sixth Blight? So soon?" he whispered, fear present even in his hushed voice. The messenger nodded before collapsing from exhaustion. Aedan fell back into his seat, still in shock. "The Sixth Blight...Maker help us."

**_Ferelden Royal Palace, 9:47 Dragon Age_**

King Alistair Theirin sat on his throne alongside his most trusted general, Grey Warden Carver Hawke. "Alistair, have you had word from Vigil's Keep yet?" Carver asked, curious as to why Warden-Commander Cousland had requested additional forces.

"No, although knowing Aedan he's probably just planning another party." Alistair joked, a low chuckle escaping his lips. Carver smiled silently at the joke.

"Right. I wonder whtat he's up to." Carver said quietly. Carver had doubted the capabilities of Cousland, who was fairly new to the Order. The fact that he was made a Commander of the Grey also made Carver a bit envious. Alistair, however, had seniority over all of them and was, without a doubt, their superior within the Ferelden Order of Grey Wardens. Still, Carver felt that he deserved Cousland's position out of seniority. Cousland, however, had proven equal, at the very least, to Carver as a general. And, considering that Cousland hails from Ferelden nobility, he would be more easily received by the people of Amaranthine.

Suddenly, the throne room was disrupted the the clatter of messenger's feet, drumming erratically throughout the chamber. "News form Weisshaupt! The Sixth Blight is coming!" the messenger yelled as he reached the throne. Alistair nearly jumped out of his throne at the news.

"What!" he yelled in astonishment. Carver was nearly struck speechless with the news.

"T-The Sixth Blight? So soon?" he managed to spit out, exchanging a shocked glance with Alistair, whose gaze was locked with the messenger.

"The Sixth Blight. The Wardens stationed at Weisshaupt are sure of it. Be prepared, King Alistair, for this Blight has a strange air about it." the messenger said before dropping to his knees. The poor soul was obviously suffering from massive exhaustion.

Alistair gave the messenger a confused look. "A strange air? How so?" he inquired.

The messenger shook his head wearily, saying, "They would not tell me. I was only sent with a warning."

"Then what is that warning?" Carver asked, his temper starting to rise. Alistair raised a hand, signaling him to calm himself.

"There is a change on the winds, Ser King, which has never been seen in all of Thedas. I urge you to be vigilant. Maker preserve us." the messenger said before collapsing onto the palace floor. One of Alistair's guards rushed up to him and began to drag him away.

"He is dead, Your majesty." the guard said as he motioned for another to help him carry the messenger out.

Alistair sighed as he returned to his throne, weary from politics and news of another Blight. He looked over at Carver, who was visibly shaken by the news. Soon, the dreams would start again. Alistair anticipated this, yet it did not bring him any peace on the matter. "Congratutaltions Carver. You, along with every other creature in Thedas, are about to see two Blights in one lifetime." Alistair half-joked in an attempt to ease his own worry.

"Yes, two Blights. What a joyous occaision." Carver replied, sarcasm lacing his voice like a poison.

**_The Korcari Wilds, Dragon Age 9:47_**

Valeo Surana, former Commander of the Grey and slayer of the Archdemon Urthemiel, awoke to the smells of boiling stew and burning wood. As he rose up from his bedroll, he was instantly greeted by an all to familiar voice.

"Good morning, my love." Morrigan said with an almost invisible smile. Valeo looked at her with his own smile.

"Is it morning already?" He joked, looking around their camp, as if searching for something or, maybe, someone.

"Looking for me?" a voice called out from behind him, making the elven mage jump slightly.

"Either I'm getting old or you're getting better." Valeo replied, turning just in time to see a rather familiar blade pointed at him. "Oh? You want to spar?" Valeo said with a smirk. He stood and drew out his own blade, a worthy longsowrd he called Starfang.

"Both of you, put those down! I insist that you eat before your daily ritual of atempted murder!" Morrigan half-yelled at the two arcane warriors, who both let out simultaneous sighs and sheathed their swords.

"Your mother's right. We should eat first." Valeo said, a smirk appearing on his face.

"But I want to spar now, father." the boy replied, a begging tone in his voice.

Morrigan stood, her temper begging to wear thin. "You will not beg of me, Ranald. You are far too old for such foolishness." Morrigan scolded, her eyes flashing with a mixture of arcane and motherly power.

"Yes mother." Ranald replied, walking over to the fire and sitting next to his father.

Valeo looked at his son, who was looking defeated. "Don't even, Ranald. Keep that pitiful attitude up and we won't spar for a month." Valeo said, causing his son to glare at him. "And don't give me that look, either. Just enjoy you're meal and then we can spar."

"Yes father." Ranald growled, his own temper wearing thin. Morrigan and Valeo looked at each other before smiling. "He truly is our son." Morrigan joked, laughing slightly as she poured the still boiling stew into clay bowls. "Enjoy."

Ranald quickly ate his stew and chased it with fresh water from his wineskin, while Valeo savored the stew and took longer to eat. Morrigan simply smiled and watched as her son and Valeo then began their daily sparring routine.

"Now remember son, let the magic flow through you like your own blood. Infuse into your sword technique." Valeo instructed as Ranald struck at him with his blade. Valeo dodged it and delivered a swift strike with Starfang before resuming his lecture. "And never forget to be creative." Valeo said, striking out with a wall of magical fire that spilled off of Starfang like floodwater. Ranald sent a shockwave of ice and snuffed out most of the flames before realising that Valeo had sent a Stonefist spell at him.

"Creativity is key in our fight, my son." Valeo finished as he helped Ranald back onto his feet. "Now, what do you say we help ourselves to some more of that stew, eh?" he said, clapping his nearly seventeen year-old son on the shoulder. Ranald, having vented his earlier frustration in the sparring match, let out a loud laugh and followed his father back to the campfire.

**_Orzammar, Dragon Age 9:47_**

Oghren sat watching the entrance to the Deep Roads, waiting for his fellow Wardens to return. They had been sent on business from Weisshaupt to investigate the Darkspawn activity. "Soulless bastards." Oghren mumbled, his Warden sense throbbing with the presence of the Darkspawn Horde. Oghren turned to look back at the city, just in time to see his fellow Wardens.

"Oghren, we're clear. Bhelen gave us the pass." Tian, a former Antivan Crow, called to Oghren.

"Sodding Ancestors, it took the bastard long enough." Oghren grumbled, his patience wearing thin. "Come on you two, let's get this blighted expedition moving." Oghren half-growled as he began walking into the Deep Roads, followed closely by Tian and an evlen Warden recruit named Huren.

**_The Deep Roads, Five Days Later_**

"By the Ancestors, what is this?" Oghren half-whispered in astonishment at the Primeval Thaig. The other Wardens kept vigilant while Oghren stood amazed at the old Thaig.

"Well Oghren, the Champion of Kirkwall did go deeper in than any other explorer. The Wardens haven't even gone this far in a long, long time." Huren replied, keeping his bow at the ready, in case any darkspawn attempted to ambush.

Oghren looked around one last time before turning back to his fellow Wardens. "Alright, we camp here tonight. I'll take first watch." Oghren said, fatigue showing in his voice. Tian and Huren followed suit and began pitching tents in and partially concealed cavern. Oghren yawned as he began his watch, something they all considered utterly useless since they could all sense the darkspawn horde. Except for Huren, who had yet to undergo his Joining.

The first two hours of Oghren's shift were surprisingly uneventful. The aged dwarf was half expecting a brigade of genlocks to come parading down the caverns any second, yet he hadn't sensed a single darkspawn since they found the Thaig. "Something's not right." he mumbled quietly as he continued to sweep the tunnels, keeping ever alert. Huren slept peacefully, something that Tian and Oghren both envied, while Tian himself had been tossing around for the last half-hour. Oghren shook his head and returned to watching the roads. The new Warden's always had nightmares, all thanks to the Taint. Oghren himself remembers the first time he ever had one of those, and ever since he has wondered why humans and elves enjoy "dreaming" so much.

Suddenly, Tian shot up from his bedroll screaming. "Dragon! Dragon!" He screamed, waking Huren. "It was a Blighted dragon!"

Oghren ran up to him and delivered a swift punch to his jaw, knocking the poor Warden back to his senses. "Great Ancestors boy, what is your sodding problem?" Oghren asked, raising his voice to a low yell. Tian gave him a bewildered look before giving his reply.

"I saw a dragon. A terrible, Blighted dragon. And...It called to me." Tian replied, causing Oghren to stagger backwards, nearly tripping over a small ledge.

"Commander?" Huren asked, sleep still fresh in his voice. The elf had been awakened by Tian's screams, and didn't understand what was going on.

"Dragon? Great Sodding Ancestors, you saw the bloody Archdemon!" Oghren yelled, his mind suddenly making sense of their situation. Now it made sense for the sudden lack of Deep Roads darkspawn. Now it all made sense. Tian shuddered at the word Archdemon.

"Maker, help us." he muttered before collapsing back onto his bedroll, exhausted and terrified. The Sixth Blight had now truly begun.


End file.
